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The Unsung Hero (Free verse) by Bhaskaryya
On the vale of once untrodden snow, He, the wounded soldier frantically calls. But none to be enticed to the crimson flow, Of the sky-warrior, who a two and twenty thousand feet falls. The chilling winds carry his cries, Merely to be echoed by the silent hills. Playing a sheer spectator to his vain tries To crawl up to the beguiling rills. A man in the primrose of vigor, Who once dreamt of a bed of roses. Falls another victim to the arcane rigor He, the now lifeless soldier, on the bed of snow, reposes. One against a forty odd, he fought Did it but occur to a few Piloting a plane in fire caught A victory would be stolen from a catch-22. A burning wing lies by his side, A reminder of the celestial rave But none to hum to this hero’s unsung pride Or pay homage to his solitary grave.

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xxx68.166.37.1850June 17, 2005 7:47 AM PDT
Dovina12.72.4.2079January 12, 2005 10:13 PM PST
Anonymous24.55.116.18610January 12, 2005 8:56 AM PST



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